


vanilla

by daienkaixoxentei



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bakery!AU, Cute, Fluff, KagaKuro - Freeform, KuroKaga, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8790145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daienkaixoxentei/pseuds/daienkaixoxentei
Summary: Kagami is a frustrated baker, and the root of his infuriation is a certain, cerulean-haired stranger who frequents his store every day – only to leave after purchasing a vanilla milkshake. A milkshake. With all his delicious pastries around, he chooses a boring old milkshake. What the hell?





	

**Author's Note:**

> just some bakery!au kurokaga fluff! enjoy!

The stranger would saunter into Kagami’s bakery every morning, regard each and every piece of pastry on display with solemn eyes and a passive expression, and inevitably leave the store accessorized only with a simple vanilla milkshake and occasionally, the tiniest of smiles. It baffles Kagami every morning that the customer spends so much time observing all his pastries, but never buys anything other than his prosaic vanilla drink – and to be honest, he finds it kind of infuriating as well.

Are his pastries not worthy of attention? Kagami ponders this gloomily.

At one point, he had wished that the customer would stop coming. It _is_ frankly a bit insulting to his pride to be so definitively put down by the stranger _every single day,_ and he feels that it is a bad way to start a fresh day at work.

But then, weeks afterward, the customer came an hour later than usual, and Kagami _freaked out_ for the entirety of that hour, anxiously worrying that something may have happened to the guy. Despite himself, he sighed in relief when his tiny guest finally came into his modest store, his bed hair in all directions and dark circles under his eyes. Kagami figures he must have overslept that day.

After that, he – though subconsciously – has begun to realize that this customer is someone special. He – though begrudgingly – has begun to pay attention to this strange diurnal visitor.

The stranger is a petite man, with soft tufts of sky-blue hair and inquisitive eyes the exact same shade. He seems intuitive by nature, and much to Kagami’s frustration, he feels like the customer appears to privately enjoy Kagami’s bemusement concerning his behavior, despite the fact that the eccentricity of their encounter is scarcely voiced between them. In fact, hardly _anything_ is voiced between them aside from their usual dialogue:

“Morning,” Kagami, grumpy and sore after his pastries have been rejected for the umpteenth time, would intone ungraciously and mostly reflexively, “the usual?”

The stranger would smile softly, though his eyes would remain as unreadable as ever. “Yes, I think I would like that. Thank you, Kagami-kun.”

 _Kagami-kun._ This is the name that his visitor addresses him with, complemented with the familiar suffix. Kagami frowns. He finds it unfair that the stranger has something recognizable to call him whereas _he_ has to resort to vague nouns and the occasional pseudonym in reference to the former.

This time when he comes, perhaps Kagami will ask for his name.

This is what he is presently wondering as he absent-mindedly presses a few buttons on his cash register. He cannot resist shooting anticipatory looks through the window, wondering whether his stranger would continue to visit him today, as well.

Right on the clock, the bell on the door jingles, admitting the cerulean-haired man inside. Kagami taps his foot impatiently, gathering up the courage to talk to him properly while the man continues his almost-religious routine of observing the pastries. He does not realize it, but his cheeks are growing quite hot and red and he is clenching his fists, determination and embarrassment and indignation all coming together to form a strange amalgam of emotions he can’t place a name to.

He has never noticed it before, but there is a strange, pensive sort of attractiveness about his stranger. It must be the mysteriousness surrounding him that allures him so, Kagami tells himself, because curiosity is a reflexive human emotion, and—and well, this fellow is strange as _hell,_ and he has every single right to be curious about him.

But he has to rid himself of all those thoughts right now, and _focus_ , because the stranger is now slowly approaching the counter after completing his routine. He is annoyed with himself for being _so_ ridiculously nervous, because _come on_ , he’s just asking someone for a damn _name._

He steels himself, and opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the other person:

“Um… if you do not mind,” he begins tentatively, and Kagami chokes in surprise on the words he has so meticulously practiced in his mind, “I would like to purchase something new today.”

Kagami stares at him in shock, unable to comprehend the words. He looks as lost as he would be if the stranger had suddenly stripped down to his tighty-whities (well, Kagami _assumes_ the man wears tighty-whities) and started doing the can-can. The stranger might as well have been speaking Greek.

“Um, Kagami-kun, is everything all right?” The stranger blinks anxiously, and Kagami feels even more lightheaded, “You look like one might look when faced with a ghost.”

It takes him a great deal of energy not to collapse out of mental exhaustion, just then. Instead he swallows down the unabated surprise that grips him and switches to autopilot, hoping his years of experience would take over for his sorry excuse of a brain.

“Uh, yeah,” he manages to mumble through flushed cheeks, “What can I get you?”

The stranger lifts one pale finger and points delicately towards his newest pastry, a simple, modest addition to his collection that Kagami has done that morning simply on a whim. “I feel like that egg sandwich looks quite delicious, Kagami-kun. I would like to buy that.”

The bewildered Kagami turns his eyes towards the mundane fecund of a pastry (hell, it wasn’t even a _pastry_ , just a half-assed excuse of a sandwich) and stares, this time, at the _food_ in shock – yes, just as if the egg sandwich had stripped down to _its_ tighty-whities and done the can-can.

In a robotic motion, he packs up the sandwich, and instinctively places the man’s usual vanilla milkshake order next to it on the counter as well. He does the entire exchange in a daze, still staring in disbelief at the egg-sandwiches on display. Really? The man has been looking for _egg-sandwiches_ all this time? _Really?_ All his marvelous pastries have been trumped by a goddamn _egg-sandwich?_

Such is the intensity of his muse that he remembers – far too late – that he had planned to ask the man his name that day. Kagami frowns to himself upon realizing that the bakery is empty and dramatically slaps both hands onto his cheeks, physically pulling himself out of his reverie. He swears loudly and angrily, scrunching his features together in exasperation.

“Ah, damn it to all! I forgot to ask him his name!”

And then, shocking him to no ends, a familiar voice responds.

“Kagami-kun, I am still here.”

Kagami yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. He bumps his hand against the cash register and swears again, rubbing his hand gingerly as he recovers slowly from his embarrassing episode, his features morphing quickly from surprise to mortification.

“ _Jesus_ , you scared me!” He accuses, trying to hide how flustered he is, and trying to ignore how the ends of the stranger’s lips are twitching as if holding back a smile. “Right,” he continues gruffly, trying to maintain whatever is left of his dignity, “you can leave now. You’ve got your stuff.”

Contrary to his suggestion, the man holds his ground, lifting those expressionless eyes to Kagami’s face and tilting his head inquiringly. “I am sorry, but I was under the impression that Kagami-kun would like to ask me something.”

Kagami scowls at the man this time. He really _was_ a total weirdo (says him, the total weirdo with the outrageous two-tone mop of bright red hair).

“Fine,” Kagami relents in defeat and averts his eyes embarrassedly. He clenches his fist nervously and quietly pushes out the words:

“Uh, I was, uh, that is… uh… _damn it,_ Taiga, _focus…_ ” He shakes his head and steels himself further, “What I mean to say is… uh, you come here a lot… and uh, since I’ve been uh kind of… curious— _GAH! No,_ I mean—shit, okay, whatever, what’s your name, dude?”

The stranger is smiling at him. “My name is Kuroko. Kuroko Tetsuya.”

“Kuroko.” Kagami says slowly, tasting the word on his lips. The name suits the man, surprisingly. “Right. Nice… Nice to meet you, Kuroko.”

Kuroko’s smile widens ever so slightly in response, and he nods politely as he retrieves his purchases and moves to exit the bakery. Kagami is still in a flushed daze as the bell jingles on Kuroko’s way out, and for a long time, he does not speak.

He looks out wistfully where Kuroko had retreated from his bakery. Now he has to wait another day to see him again. Despite that, Kagami is kind of irritated that he is feeling… _happy_. There is a strange sort of fluttering in his stomach as he thinks of Kuroko, a weird feeling that is warming him from the core and making him blush.

“Kuroko,” he says again, to himself, and grins like an idiot. He can’t wait to see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! have a nice day!


End file.
